


Monet Issues

by nott_the_best1



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Discussion of Bullying, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Book 1: Chain of Gold, elias is a bad dad, referenced toxic relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 16:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30007911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nott_the_best1/pseuds/nott_the_best1
Summary: Out of all of the people he’d ever snapped at, Alastair Carstairs had never lost his temper with his mother. Not until today.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs & Sona Carstairs
Kudos: 12





	Monet Issues

**Author's Note:**

> CW: mention or discussion of alcoholism, physical abuse, bullying, and toxic relationships
> 
> title is from "monet issues" by chase petra which is a great song and you should listen to it :) this was written before i read COI, so no spoilers here and it is not canon compliant!

Out of all of the people he’d ever snapped at, Alastair Carstairs had never lost his temper with his mother. Not until today. 

“He’s the same. He’s the same as he was last spring, before he left, the same as he was ten years ago. He is _never_ going to change. Not for Cordelia, not for you, not for the baby. Why are you still doing this to yourself?” he pleaded. 

His mother smiled and sighed. “That’s enough, Alastair _joon_. Your father is flawed, but he loves us. He’s trying. You’ll understand one day, once you’ve fallen in love and started a family of your own.” 

He narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Just answer one question then: if this child is a boy, will you allow him to do everything I was forced to do?” 

She hardened her expression. “ _Joonam_ , that’s just what family-” 

“No. Cordelia never did those things, did she? I never wanted her to. You never wanted her to.” 

“That was different. She’s… Well, she has a big heart, you know. I knew that you could handle such a burden, _azizam_. I know that it was difficult, but look at the man that you’ve become. I’m so proud of you. These trials life brings us… they only make us stronger.” 

Alastair could feel his stomach twisting as his mother spoke. “No.” 

“Alastair-” 

“No! I never asked for this! I never wanted this! You told me that I needed to be head of the family in his absence, but now that he’s returned, it’s as if the past six months never happened? As if the past decade never happened? He has been absent for _ten years_. Cordelia was allowed to simply be a child. Because she had a ‘big heart,’ you say? What about mine? Was it always small, or did you, did _Father_ make it that way? Because I genuinely cannot remember a time before. When was I meant to just be a child? When you sent me away to school, to meet all of the boys who were allowed to simply _grow up_ and make mistakes and learn from them while I was busy trying to keep my father alive and my family together? I didn’t need to be _stronger_. I was a child!” His voice cracked. “I needed to be loved and protected! I needed someone to take care of _me_ , not the other way around! I needed to feel safe! I was a _child_!” 

He clenched his fists at his sides, seeing white. “It didn’t make me stronger. It made me- it made me _broken_. It made me bitter and angry, so much so that I pushed it onto everyone else. It made me a monster. Do you know how awful school was? They taught me to hate myself. I became a bully because it was easier to hurt others than let them hurt me. I let nearly every part of me die, just trying to survive it. I knew someone who didn’t, a fourteen-year-old boy who I watched _die_. And yet I _preferred_ that over the idea of returning home and dealing with Father’s illness again. Do you want to know the truth?” 

He took a step closer to his mother, her expression hard and unreadable. “The truth is that the moment I met someone who I thought _might_ actually take care of me and protect me, I ran to him. I trusted him like I’d never allowed myself to trust _anyone_. And I stayed with him, even as he lied to me, as he left me cold and alone night after night, as he made it clear time and time again that he would never prioritize me over his own whims and desires. I wanted so badly to feel loved that I gave him all I had, all of my time and energy and attention, knowing that he would never return any of it.” 

He took a step back, finally feeling the tears that had spilled down his cheeks. “I’ve realized now that I deserve better. I _deserved_ better. _You_ deserve better.” He lowered his voice and looked down. He knew that his mother loved him, that Cordelia loved him, that maybe even Elias loved him, in his own way. He just wished he never had to wonder whether his life would be different if someone had cared about him. “I know… I know you love me, that you love all of us. I know that you didn’t have many choices. You were in a terrible situation. But I can’t stand here and watch you sit in your denial any longer, knowing the prices we have _both_ paid for it.” 

He stared at her, waiting for her to respond, but she did not. Alastair did the only thing he knew left to do: he turned and left. As he started towards the staircase, he stopped and spoke one last time. “You were meant to protect me, and you did not. That’s okay, because I’m learning how to be whole again. I’m finding better ways to survive. I am mending my own heart, alone, because it is my only option. But I want to make one thing clear, this is not meant to be the price of family. This did not make me strong, and you have _nothing_ to be proud of.” 

Finally satisfied, he retreated to his room without waiting for a reaction.

* * *

Sona returned to her room after her son stormed off. Her eyes scanned her dresser, a quiet mess of makeup, perfumes, Elias’ house key. She’d only just given it to him, but it was pointless. He always lost them. At least today, he’d forgotten them in their own home, and not at a bar or on a park bench or in some hansom cab halfway across the city. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror, at the purple spot under her eyes, at the wrinkles now set into her face, and thought of the days when she was younger. Did she always look older than her years?

Elias had been older than her, of course. Much older. Despite her young age, she’d been a widow. Not just a widow, but accused of murder. Despite all that had happened since, she could still remember clearly going before the Mortal Sword, confessing all that had happened, and watching herself acquitted and her husband’s death swept under the rug by a society that did not wish to face the reality of what she had endured. 

She’d been frightened, terrified, certain that no one would ever love after what she had done. She’d always known that her life would be difficult, that it would be unlikely for her to find a respectable husband, that she would never marry for love. Theodor was supposed to be a catch. She was meant to be the luckiest girl alive. She was young and naïve and blood spilled for it over, and over, and over, until she broke. Until everyone around her could see that she was broken. 

She thought that Elias would make her whole. She believed that he would take care of her, that he would love her, that he would provide. She hadn’t known how she could be so lucky, twice. 

Now, she wondered if she should have taken off on that milking cart. 

She’d thought about it many times, what her life could have become if she’d simply left. If she’d run away, away from the Shadow World, away from all that knew her past. She could have started over as a mundane. 

She always pushed the thought aside. If she had run, she would never have had her children. 

Her children. 

Their lives had been much more difficult than she’d dreamed of. They were never going to be easy, not being who they are, not in this world they lived in. Some pains were unavoidable. 

Some were not. 

Alastair had been a happy child, once. He’d carried so much love in his heart, perhaps even more than Cordelia. That is why, when he learned the truth, he agreed so readily to help. Because he loved Cordelia, and her, and Elias, so much. He did not yet know that for some, the cost of love was pain and hopelessness. 

She allowed him to pay that price, the same one that she had paid, because it was easier than accepting the truth. Even as she watched him grow more and more anxious, as dark circles imprinted themselves under his eyes, as Risa shot her disapproving looks every time she asked him to look after Elias, or take care of Cordelia, or clean up some bottles, she allowed that price to be paid. 

She thought that the Shadowhunter Academy could be good for him, that perhaps it would benefit him to be away from the house. She was a fool, and by the time he first returned from school, she could see that the little boy she’d once known had disappeared. 

She could see him again, now, fighting to be heard. She could see that her son was finding himself again, but that it was a slow and painful process, and that he was still very far away. She wondered where her old self had gone, and if she could find her, or if she even still existed at all. 

She’d always known that Alastair was similar to her. Too similar, it seemed, and now, he had made the same mistakes she had. She knew the pain he felt too well, the pain that she could see in his eyes, hear in his voice. She’d thought that was love, but it was not. She’d learned the hard way, and now Alastair had, too. She knew that it was not a coincidence.

 _You had the biggest heart of them all,_ she wanted to tell her son. _It’s still yours. I’m sorry._

She did not know how. 

She rested a hand on her swollen belly and thought about taking care of an infant while also taking care of her husband. She could no longer not ask anyone else to do it for her. 

For this baby, still unmarred by life’s hardships, for Alastair, for Cordelia, for herself, she took a deep breath and gathered her husband’s few belongings. She threw them in a suitcase, along with a short note, and placed it on their front steps, locking the door behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! the Farsi words are just terms of endearment, like “my dear.” I just want to say that I don’t necessarily think everything that Alastair said or Sona thought is true (or that Alastair even believed everything he said), I was just trying to get inside their heads a bit. Forgiving (and blaming) parents is really hard and complicated, and I really wanted to explore how Alastair felt about Sona a bit more.


End file.
